


allowance

by YouAreMyDesign



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Asphyxiation, Biting, Blood Kink, Blood and Violence, Blow Jobs, Bottom Will Graham, Breathplay, Come Swallowing, Creampie, Crying, Cutting, Dark Will Graham, Drug Use, Drugged Sex, Fear Play, Hannibal Lecter is a Cannibal, Hannibal Lecter is the Chesapeake Ripper, Knifeplay, M/M, Nipple Torture, Paralysis, Post-Fall (Hannibal), Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Sadism, Scent Kink, Top Hannibal Lecter, Torture, Will Graham Knows, Will Graham is a Cannibal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-07
Updated: 2019-06-07
Packaged: 2020-04-12 00:57:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19121317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YouAreMyDesign/pseuds/YouAreMyDesign
Summary: "Oh, Will," he breathes, and pets up Will's sweaty flanks. "You sweet, trusting thing. How could you let me do this to you twice?"





	allowance

Hannibal presses his lips together as he pulls the elastic tight around Will's arm, just before his elbow, beneath the bulge of his bicep. He smiles when Will's eyes flash, and look up, as Hannibal pets down his forearm and forces him to curl his fingers into a fist. The veins in his inner elbow and forearm bulge, standing out starkly, and Hannibal smiles, and sets the tip of the long needle against where it's thickest.

He presses in and Will sucks in a breath, his eyes on the place where the needle penetrates. Hannibal pushes on the plunger, watches the clear liquid sink into Will's arm. He pulls the needle out and Will flexes his fingers, and he unties the elastic and sets it all to one side.

"Won't be long now," he purrs, and pets Will's hair, easing him back onto the bed. Will sighs through his nose, throat flexing as he swallows harshly, lips parting so he can lick them. Hannibal climbs onto the bed, sitting over him, and Will blinks up at him, jaw clenching.

He smiles, and leans down, cupping Will's face, already starting to feel the paralytic agent take effect, as Will's head hangs limply, his mouth barely moving as Hannibal kisses him and drinks his fill from Will's sweet mouth. He moves, letting Will's head back down, and kisses warm and wet on his neck, over his rushing pulse.

"I can smell your fear, darling," he whispers, and Will's body shivers beneath him. "Good – let your blood race, let your heart fly. It'll take effect sooner that way."

Will swallows, and spasms when Hannibal bites him, wide and sharp. His heart stammers under Hannibal's tongue, and Hannibal smiles, lets his fingers brush in a teasing caress down to Will's collarbones. Settles, and pushes with his thumb, to the hollow, plugging the base of his larynx.

Will whines, but it's breathy and soft. His stomach twitches, trying to sink in as Hannibal rests over his hips, sighing contentedly to Will's pretty neck. He's afraid, terribly so, Hannibal can smell it – knows only the too-familiar feeling of complete helplessness, but complete awareness. Knows that there's a monster in the room. Hannibal has no intention of cutting off his face, but he could do grievous harm to Will, and Will knows that.

He releases Will's throat, and drags his nails down the center of Will's chest, cups beneath his sternum like he intends to lift Will from the bed by it. Will's eyes tighten in the corners with discomfort, and his upper lip twitches to show teeth. He doesn't move otherwise – soon it will be difficult even to breathe, like sleep paralysis. Hannibal's mouth waters.

He slides down further, fits his teeth around one of Will's nipples, tongues at it until it hardens and then bites down savagely. Will's breath escapes him in a heavy gust, strangled and raw, and Hannibal tugs, until he knows it must hurt. Still, Will doesn't move – he can't move. He can't do a thing to stop Hannibal doing whatever he wants.

His stomach quivers beneath Hannibal's touch, and Hannibal notes that his ribs no longer expand with his inhale. He rises quickly, and grabs the tongue depressor and breathing tube, attached to a machine that will force him to keep taking in air. Will's eyes stare upwards, blankly, shining, as Hannibal carefully works his thumb between Will's teeth and forces his jaws apart.

Will is turning pale, and though he cannot move, Hannibal knows he is starting to panic. The scent of his blood slowly being deprived of oxygen is alkaline and sharp, like cranberries, almost, before they ferment. He smiles, and pushes the depressor on Will's tongue, opening him enough to feed the tube down into his lungs.

This, he knows, Will remembers too. As he feeds the tube down and pulls the depressor out, Will's staring eyes brim, well up, and a single tear falls from the corner.

He attaches the tube and turns the machine on, watching with pleasure as Will's chest heaves with a sudden inhale, and the cranberry scent of him dissolves back into the low-grade fear. He pets Will's hair from his face, kisses the tear from his temple, and moves back to his place.

One of Will's nipples has a mark of his teeth, now, and he worries it further, until it blooms red and raw, and Will's chest rises up to his mouth and Hannibal lets himself pretend Will himself is doing it – savors the fact that, no, Will cannot flinch from him, cannot reach for him. Can do nothing but lie there and be a slave to whatever Hannibal wants.

"Oh, Will," he breathes, and pets up Will's sweaty flanks. "You sweet, trusting thing. How could you let me do this to you twice?"

Will can't glare, cannot even blink. Hannibal rises, and finds the little bottle of eyedrops on the bedside table. He fills the pipette and places two in each of Will's eyes, keeping them moist, and sets it back down again. They bead in Will's eyes, and drip like tears, but those he leaves. Will looks so lovely when he cries.

He moves to Will's other nipple, pinching the one he left behind as he bites around the other. This one, he sucks into his mouth, until he feels the burst and give of blood vessels, tastes the blood rushing to pool beneath Will's skin. He snarls, hips rolling, and lets go of Will's nipple to grip his jutting hipbones tightly.

He can feel Will's heart, rushing below his mouth when he kisses Will's chest. "Do you like being helpless?" he murmurs, mostly to himself, though he's sure Will can hear him, even over whatever his own thoughts are screaming at him. "It's easy to simply blame me for whatever happens, isn't it?"

Will, of course, doesn't answer.

Hannibal laughs, and pushes himself between Will's legs, forces his thighs out wanton and wide. He takes Will's cock in hand, tilts his head, admiring it. It's flaccid, of course – Will won't get hard during this. Hannibal almost prefers that.

Will's lungs expand in another rhythmic heave, and Hannibal smiles, and reaches for the final playthings. A deck of cards, and a thin, long knife. He sets them on Will's stomach and leans over him, propping his head up on the pillows so that Will can see.

He takes the deck out and shuffles them, and lays the stack of cards face-down on Will's stomach. They talked about the rules beforehand, and yet Hannibal feels a powerful surge of pleasure as he tells Will; "Black for air, red for blood. Are you ready, darling?"

Will stares at him. His nostrils don't flare, but he makes a noise – a helpless, pathetic sound on his exhale.

Hannibal smiles, and stands one last time, to wheel the breathing machine to him, so he can reach out and turn it on and off without getting out of bed. He settles between Will's thighs, and flips the first card. It's a three of clubs.

He reaches out, and turns the machine off. Watches as Will's chest goes still, and silent. Sets his hand to Will's thigh to feel how his heart stutters, weak without oxygen.

He counts to three, and turns the machine back on again. Will whimpers, and more tears spill from the corners of his eyes, coating his flushed cheeks. Hannibal smiles, and leans over him to kiss his forehead. He sits back, and flips the next card.

Nine of hearts.

"Oh, dear," Hannibal murmurs, falsely sympathetic. He picks up the knife, admiring the glint of the light on the blade – he spent hours sharpening it this morning, so that it would easily slice through skin. He tilts his head, considering where he wants to cut.

Not his face, no, he would never do that. Nor his neck, either – he would much rather mark Will there with his teeth.

He smiles, and sets the knife just under Will's ribs, and slices. It's a clean cut, and wells up with bright red blood, and Will whimpers at the pain, but cannot flinch, cannot move. Hannibal lays another, an inch below, and then a third below that. He grins, and places three perpendicular, creating a board of three by three. He places three around the border, making a square lacking the last edge.

"Since you so enjoy our little games," he purrs.

Will stares at him, eyes bright with tears. Hannibal settles, and lets the bloodstained knife rest by the discard pile. He flips another card – the King of Spades.

His lips purse. He eyes the machine, and then Will. "We'll do it in bursts," he says. After all, he doesn't want to irreparably damage Will. He reaches over and shuts the machine off, and counts to five. And then ten. Finally, thirteen, and he smiles, and turns it back on. Will's chest rises, and his eyes flash with accusation.

Hannibal smiles, unrepentant. "I lied," he whispers, and leans down to kiss to blood welling up on Will's flank. He licks over it, growling at the cranberry sharpness of blood deprived oxygen, purrs when he sees, in his periphery, Will's fingers twitch.

"Recovering already?" he murmurs, and smiles at Will widely, so Will can see the blood in his teeth. He pinches Will's nipple savagely, watching Will's eyes tighten at the corners. As soon as he can breathe on his own, the tube will be intolerable – he will cough, and gag, and try and take it out.

He flips another card, and laughs.

The diamond Ace.

"Perfect," he whispers, and removes the cards and knife from Will's stomach, pushes his thighs wider still, and runs his fingers through the blood pooling on Will's flank, smearing it between his thighs. He slicks Will's perineum with it, cups his balls and tugs, and Will hisses on his inhale. The Ace means Hannibal gets to penetrate Will, and though it's a shame it came so soon, the sight of Will, helpless and bleeding and unable to do anything as simple as breathe without Hannibal's permission has incensed him. It would drive him to madness to keep going as they are.

He forces three fingers into Will, watches his throat shiver and flex as he swallows. He coughs, and Hannibal rears up, forcing the tube to remain in his throat as Will gags and spams suffocatingly tight around his fingers.

He snarls, and Will glares up at him through teary eyes. Hannibal smiles, and leans down to kiss the corner of his mouth, delighted when Will's lip twitches, to show his teeth.

He forces himself closer, pulls his fingers out and slicks his cock with Will's blood, and cups his thighs, folding him in half, lifting him enough so the angle is right, and he can push inside. Will grunts, fingers curling but unable to lift, lashes fluttering as Hannibal presses deep in one solid, brutal thrust.

Hannibal growls, leaning down to bite savagely at Will's neck, drawing another blushing mark to match the teeth lines around his nipples. Will's flank is bleeding openly, pooling in his collarbones, around his aching throat, and Hannibal smears it along his jaws, purring with pleasure, fits his thighs beneath Will's ass and fucks him as hard as he can.

Will is recovering, and soon will bite back.

Will chokes again, his body loose around Hannibal's cock, not clenching like he normally does because he simply can't. His fingers twitch again and he gags around the tube in his mouth, stares up at Hannibal. His nostrils flare and he whines.

Hannibal smiles, cradles his wet throat and bites his jaw harshly. Will flinches, stomach tensing.

"You are so beautiful, Will," Hannibal breathes, closing his eyes and chasing the orgasm biting at the back of his neck. He fucks in as deeply as he's able, relishes Will's recovering body as it tries to spasm around him, tries to force him out. Oh, Will never could, not in his right mind.

He reaches over, and turns the breathing machine off.

Will whimpers, his eyes widening, and tries to shake his head, but all that happens is a minute jerk of his chin. Hannibal snarls, smiling, puts his nose to Will's neck and breathes in deeply; the alkaline scent of his panic, the taste of cranberries in his blood. Will gags, choking again, a helpless, needy sound stuck in his throat, and Hannibal reaches up and tugs the breathing tube free.

Will's lashes flutter, not quite able to breathe yet, and Hannibal fits his mouth over Will's, presses on his diaphragm to force it to compress, and when Will takes in a slow, reedy breath, it sounds like absolute agony.

Hannibal smiles, and presses another kiss to Will's gasping mouth. He heaves, shrieking without sound, and Hannibal digs his nails into his bloody flank, his bruised hip, fucks in deep and comes as Will gasps and shudders, and closes his eyes.

More tears well up beneath his lids, spilling warm and heavy, and Hannibal nuzzles them away, licks and kisses the blood and tears smeared on Will's face, the saliva that pooled around his mouth from the tube. Will's hand lifts, batting at Hannibal's shoulder, digs in with claws so it doesn't fall.

Hannibal pulls out and lets him drop, admiring the mess he has left of Will – the blood staining his thighs, from his torn rim, leaking sluggishly with his come. The cross-stitch on Will's flank. The bruising blush of his abused nipples and the swelling ache in his mouth. His tears, oh God, Will looks beautiful.

Will's hand falls to his chest, his body heaving with sobs as he can finally draw in air. He turns his face away, wanting to hide, and Hannibal rears over him again, grips Will's jaw firmly and forces him to face forward, to meet Hannibal's eyes.

Will's lashes flutter open again, and he fixes Hannibal with a dark, accusing glare. "Are you satisfied?" he growls, his voice as rough as if Hannibal had been using his mouth all night. Bruised, scratched on the inside, Hannibal shivers at the thought of Will bleeding at the back of his throat as well.

"Utterly," Hannibal replies, and smiles. "Are you?"

"Never," Will spits, showing his teeth. He still can't quite move, can only twitch and curl his hand into a fist. He reaches up, grabs Hannibal harshly by the hair, heavy-handed since he hasn't regained fine motor control yet, knows only instinct and aggression. Cracking Will open to see his molten center is always so satisfying.

Hannibal smiles, and lets Will push him down to his lap. Lets Will force him to take his cock between his teeth, lets Will hold him there until Will can harden, and clog his throat. Lets Will choke him as he growls, tipping his head back, and rolls his hips to sink deeper into Hannibal's mouth.

Will fucks his throat until he comes, forcing Hannibal down until his nose is pressed to Will's blood-soaked pubic hair. He breathes it in eagerly, swallows just as readily, and Will's hand goes lax as he melts to the bed.

He pulls off of Will's cock and wipes the back of his hand across his mouth, grinning wide when Will shudders, and blinks to the ceiling. Fresh tears well up, and spill, and Will's entire body shakes with sobs.

"I'm here, darling," Hannibal murmurs, and kisses Will's forehead, over the scar, cupping his face with tender hands. Will nods, and paws at his arm, curling up as best he can as Hannibal rolls him onto his side and tucks Will tight to his chest.

He breathes out, shaking, hitching, saccharine with tears and pain. Hannibal eyes the wound on his flank – he will need to bind it, soon, to make sure Will doesn't get sick, but that can wait for another moment while Will recovers.

He slides a hand into Will's hair, and holds him, until Will's breathing is somewhat normal and his scent is no longer sharp with fear. He presses his nose to Will's hair and breathes him in deeply. Will's hand flattens on his chest and Hannibal cups it with his other hand, squeezing gently.

"How did it feel?" he murmurs.

"Awful," Will replies, rasping the word.

"We don't have to do it again, if you don't want to."

"I didn't say that."

Hannibal smiles into Will's hair. Oh, his sweet, trusting, utterly unpredictable Will. "I have plenty more of the drug," he whispers, soft with promise, and tilts Will's chin up so that he can kiss him. Will licks over his mouth, shivers at the taste of his own blood and tears on Hannibal's tongue, and growls in answer.


End file.
